


Déjà Vu

by steggyisimmortal



Series: Shield and Gun [5]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, No one dies in this, The Feels are strong with this one, the major character death is one that's already occured as per the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steggyisimmortal/pseuds/steggyisimmortal
Summary: I see you everywhere. I know it can’t be possible.  I was on the radio with you when the plane went down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of SteggySecretSanta for take-me-to-ny.
> 
> This part is written in first person from Peggy's perspective. Set sometimes during Agent Carter.
> 
> Inspiration: 'When I saw you walkin’ past me almost called your name. Got a better glimpse and then I looked away. It’s like I’m losing it.'

I see you everywhere.

 

I know it can’t be possible.  I was on the radio with you when the plane went down.  Howard searched and searched for months but he never found anything.  I never said anything but I was heartbroken every time he returned to tell me no.  The look on his face told me I didn’t need to say the words.  He felt it, too.

 

I look at your stolen picture frequently.  I keep it in my treasure box for safe keeping, though lately I find I’m reticent to put you back in there when I’m through. 

 

I thought I saw you on my way to work yesterday.  I stopped and almost yelled your name when the man turned.  He had glasses and a beard and his nose was all wrong.  The flush of embarrassment flooded my face and I promised myself I would get more sleep that night.

 

Now at the Automat I go through the motions of lunch but my mind is elsewhere.  I miss you so much every day.  There are so many things I want to talk to you about.

 

I look up to find Angie so that I can refresh my coffee when my breath leaves me.

 

Steve.

 

Standing in the doorway of the Automat.  But this can’t be….

 

The sun glares in brightly as it reflects off a car that pulls up outside the building.  I shield my eyes, needing to keep my eyes on the door, but the light is so bright.

 

“English, you okay?  You look like you just saw a ghost.”

 

I look at Angie for a split second before turning back to the door but whatever I saw isn’t there.  The blinding light and car are gone. 

 

Steve….

 

“Yes, I’m, I’m fine, Angie.  It’s just, I thought I saw someone I know.”

 

* * *

 

Lately I’ve taken to leaving your picture next to my mirror.  You’re the first face I see in the morning and the last face I see at night. 

 

Sometimes I feel like I’m torturing myself but other times I don’t care.  I want to remember your beautiful face.  I need to.  This is one of the last solid pieces I have of you. 

 

The Commandos stole your footlocker, though Phillips looked the other way and continues to play dumb, and were gracious enough to give it to me.  They’d stuffed everything of yours they could find in it, even your dress uniform.  There were no medical files with it so the SSR has no immediate need to seek out your property.  You signed Bucky as your next of kin before he fell and you never had time to change the paperwork.  I keep those keepsakes in a separate box under winter sweaters I hardly ever wear.

 

I have your sketchbook but I can’t bring myself to open it.  I don’t know why.  I guess it seems too personal, like a gross invasion of your privacy.  I know you wouldn’t mind, and I’ll probably open it one day, but I don’t see that day being anytime soon.

 

Not when I still see you everywhere.

 

I thought I saw you on the train yesterday.  It wasn’t.  I turned my head too fast and when I looked back the person looked nothing like you.  I wonder if I’m torturing myself trying to find you everywhere.

 

I can’t tell anyone about this because they would all think I’m crazy.  _I_ think I’m crazy.  They’ll think I can’t let go but why should I?  The truth is I don’t want to. 

 

No one will ever compare to you.

 

You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.  You understand me in a way no one else does.  Perhaps it’s because we’re so similar.  Our upbringings weren’t that different from one another.  Our lives have gone in a similar fashion.  You once confessed to me you wanted to be like me but the truth is you’re better than me.  I feel as though you’re too good to be true at times.  I strive to be like you.  Sometimes I feel there’s far too much evil in me but then I look at your picture and the feeling abates. 

 

I must remember to use the past tense when I speak of you.  It’s painful to remember to do so.

 

Howard has been rambling on and on since I got here.  I’m assuming he had something important to ask me or show me but he’s done nothing but talk.  Typical Howard.  If I were in a better mood I’d snap at him to get on with it.  As it is I listen to him prattle on about… something. 

 

I see a man down the hallway.  He’s tall like you with blond hair in your hairstyle.  He’s handsome but I tell my mind that he’s not you.  I wish it would stop playing tricks on me.

 

“Peg, you listening to me?  You know I hate when I’m not the center of attention.”

 

 I nod at Howard and turn my eyes away from the strange man. 

 

* * *

 

It’s easier to look at your picture without feeling a thousand needles stabbing me in the heart.

 

I don’t know when it happened but I feel lighter lately. 

 

I’m far from the only person that lost a significant other in the war but the weight of the loss is hard to let go of.  Sometimes I feel like it’s holding me back.  Like I’m going through the motions but not enjoying any of it. 

 

I love my job.  I wish I were treated better by my colleagues but I’m used to their behavior by now.  It’s been long enough.  Since before this particular set really.  It’s nothing new and they certainly never stop me from accomplishing what I set out to do.  Whether they’re aware of it or not.

 

Howard’s putting some kind of secret organization within the SSR.  It’s very hush hush right now but I don’t doubt the man can make it work.  He’s asked me to take part in it a few months back and I said yes.  Colonel Phillips will be joining us once it’s up and running.  We just have to find a suitable location first.

 

For the first time in a while life is looking up. 

 

I finally opened your sketchbook. 

 

I’d had a very vivid dream about you the night before.  When I woke up, I went straight to my closet and dug the book out. 

 

I don’t know what I was expecting to find but it wasn’t what I ended up finding.

 

There was drawing upon drawing of myself.

 

At the front of the book there was a half drawn picture of yourself.  Anyone else would say it was a morbid drawing but I have no doubt you were drawing before a mission and got pulled away from it before you completed it.  You never liked to go back to a drawing after your focus was shot.  You said the image would take on a split personality if you did that. 

 

There were a few drawings of Bucky and the Commandos.  A few maps you’d drawn.  You had a few cartoon images, one being the dancing monkey I saw you drawing when we met again in Italy. 

 

But then the rest of the book was filled with images of myself. 

 

Me in my Class A uniform looking prim and proper.  Me speaking to Phillips, hands on my hips and Phillips looking exasperated.  Me holding my favorite pistol at an unseen target.  I looked deadly and in charge.  Me with curlers in my hair from that weekend we spent locked inside my small London flat that was thankfully still standing at the time.  Me lounging in bed, my hands wrapped around your dog tags pulling you closer.  Our feet intertwined together.  Me lounging in bed smiling at my own personal artist.  Our hands intertwined. 

 

But my personal favorite was a slightly cartoony version of myself wearing a hat with a briefcase in my hand, tossed into the gut of an enemy, with the words, “The name’s Agent.”

 

It made me laugh when I saw it.  It was like a dam had broken.  I’m not sure how long I sat there and laughed and smiled and just… let everything out.  All the sadness, all the wallowing, all the melancholy – all of it. 

 

I’m not saying it’s completely gone – it never will be – but it hurts less and that’s all I’m after right now.

 

I think I realized finally that you’ll always be with me.  You’re in everything I see.  Your actions are in all of mine.  Your words are my words.  Your memory is in my heart. 

 

Captain America will live on in the hearts of the American people but Steve Rogers will live on in me.

 

I’m in no hurry to replace you.  How could I be when there is truly no adequate substitute?  I don’t think I ever will.  I’ve already had the best.  I have my friends and my work.  That’s truly all I need.  I was never looking for love when I found you; it was never high on my list of priorities.  It just sort of snuck up on me. 

 

I realize I’ve been ignoring Mr. Jarvis and I apologize. 

 

“That’s quite all right, Miss Carter.  Is everything all right?”

 

I smile.  It’s my first real smile in quite some time and it feels wonderful.

 

“Yes, Mr. Jarvis.  I’m magnificent.”

**Author's Note:**

> Have faith ;)


End file.
